THE SERVANT HUSBAND IS THE QUADRILLIONAIRE HEIR

Chapter 3

MICHAEL'S POV

I stared at this mysterious woman in complete bewilderment, my mind struggling to process what had just happened.

 The security guards had released me, stepping back as if they'd touched something radioactive.

"I'm sorry, but I think you have the wrong person," I stammered, wiping blood from my split lip. 

"I'm nobody special. Just Michael Thompson."

The woman straightened from her bow, her piercing gaze never leaving my face. 

"There is no mistake, young master. You are exactly who we have been searching for."

"Young master?" I let out a bitter laugh. 

"Lady, I think you've got your wires crossed. I'm a live-in son-in-law who can't even pay his mother's hospital bills."

"I understand your confusion," she replied, her voice carrying absolute certainty. 

"I will explain everything to you in detail once we have handled this immediate crisis. But first—"

She turned toward Mom's stretcher, her expression shifting to one of focused concern.

 In swift strides, she approached and placed two fingers against Mom's wrist, then leaned down to check her breathing.

"She can still be saved," she announced, relief flooding through me like a dam bursting.

 "But she requires immediate intensive care. Every second counts."

My knees nearly buckled with joy. "Really? You're sure?"

"I am certain. My medical team will handle her treatment personally."

Dr. Peterson stepped forward, his face twisted with contempt.

 "This is ridiculous! You think you can fool me with this pathetic charade?" He gestured dismissively at the woman and her bodyguards. 

"What did you do, hire a bunch of actors? You'd be better off spending that money on your mother's medical bills instead of this elaborate fantasy."

The woman's eyes turned to ice

. Without warning, she stepped forward and delivered what looked like the lightest possible slap to Dr. Peterson's cheek.

The sound was barely audible—a soft pat, really.

But Dr. Peterson flew backward like he'd been hit by a truck. 

He sailed through the air for at least ten feet before crashing into a row of plastic chairs, sending them scattering across the floor.

 Blood sprayed from his mouth as he hit the ground, and he lay there gasping like a fish out of water, unable to even attempt getting up.

The entire lobby fell silent except for the doctor's labored wheezing.

Holy shit. What kind of woman was this?

Dr. Peterson's face had gone white as paper, his earlier arrogance completely evaporated. 

The air around this woman seemed to vibrate with barely contained power, and I could feel it pressing against everyone in the room like atmospheric pressure before a storm.

"You... you can't..." the doctor wheezed, fumbling for his phone with shaking hands. 

"You don't know who you're messing with! The hospital director... he has backing from Police Chief Williams himself!"

He managed to dial a number, his voice gaining strength as he spoke into the phone.

 "Chief Williams? It's Dr. Peterson at Metropolitan General. I need officers here immediately. Some crazy woman just assaulted me, and—"

The woman calmly pulled out her own phone, her movements precise and unhurried.

 She dialed a number and waited exactly one ring before someone answered.

"Chief Williams," she said, her voice dropping to arctic temperatures. 

"This is Victoria Sterling."

Even from several feet away, I could hear the sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line.

"I'm currently at Metropolitan General Hospital," she continued, "where I've discovered that your friend Dr. Peterson has been abusing his position for personal profit while neglecting his medical duties. Patients are dying while he extorts their families."

Dr. Peterson's face went from white to green.

 "She's lying!" he croaked. "She's some kind of con artist!"

Victoria ignored him completely.

 "You have one minute to resolve this situation, Chief Williams. One minute, or I will assume you are complicit in this corruption and act accordingly."

She hung up without waiting for a response.

Dr. Peterson let out a shaky laugh, though sweat was pouring down his face. 

"You think you can intimidate me with theatrics? Chief Williams will have you arrested within minutes. You have no idea the kind of power you're dealing with."

The gathered security guards and nurses were all watching this standoff with wide eyes, clearly expecting the mysterious woman to be dragged away in handcuffs any moment.

But something was nagging at me. 

The way she'd said her name—Victoria Sterling—like it should mean something. And the way the police chief had reacted on the phone...

Meanwhile, Dr. Peterson was struggling to his feet, his confidence returning as the minutes ticked by.

 "Where are your fancy connections now?" he sneered. 

"Just wait until Director Harrison gets here. He'll put an end to this circus."

He turned to address the gathering crowd of nurses and staff.

 "You're all witnessing assault and battery. This woman will be in prison by tonight, mark my words."

"You seem quite confident for someone who was just sent flying across the room," Victoria replied coolly.

"A lucky shot, nothing more," Peterson spat. 

"But Director Harrison has real power in this city. He's untouchable, and so am I under his protection."

One of the nurses whispered to another, "Should we call more security?"

"No need," Peterson declared loudly.

 "The director will handle this personally. He doesn't tolerate troublemakers disrupting his hospital."

As if summoned by his words, the lobby doors burst open again.

 But instead of the calm, authoritative entrance I expected from a hospital director, a middle-aged man in an expensive suit came running in like his life depended on it.

"Where is she?" he gasped, his voice cracking with panic. "Where is Ms. Sterling?"